'That'll Be The Day' (Chapter 7)
Serialized Crime Fiction: A Power Pop Heist
CHAPTER 1 • CHAPTER 2 • CHAPTER 3 • CHAPTER 4 • CHAPTER 5 • CHAPTER 6 • CHAPTER 7 • CHAPTER 8 • CHAPTER 9 • CHAPTER 10 • CHAPTER 11 • CHAPTER 12 • CHAPTER 13 (THE END)
That’ll Be The Day: A Power Pop Heist
by S.W. Lauden
Chapter 7
They left Austin in a hurry. Jamie white-knuckled the steering wheel so hard Jack thought he might snap it in half. Jack, on the other hand, felt calmer than he had since getting out. Protecting his younger siblings was the only thing that ever gave Jack a real sense of purpose in life.
“Watch your speed, little brother. No need to draw unwanted attention.”
“Watch my fucking speed? You just shoved a gun in my friend’s face and robbed him. You think I’m worried about a speeding ticket?”
“Didn’t seem like a very good friend to me. By the way, you’re welcome.”
“That’s how record collectors are, dipshit. Haggling is part of the fun.”
“Yeah, well, we got Chaz’s money. Now let’s get to Memphis.”
Jamie punched the steering wheel.
“You don’t get it. He’s connected to everybody in the collector community. It’s a tight-knit bunch. Now when that Quarrymen 45 goes missing there’s a pretty good chance somebody will put two and two together. We’re fucked.”
“You were fucked the minute you gave my fifty grand away.”
“To our little sister. For medical bills.”
“That’s what you keep saying.”
“Because it’s the fucking truth.”
“Whatever. Why don’t you put on some music and chill the fuck out?”
“Fine.”
Jamie cued up a song. The opening harmonica riff of “Please Please Me” came blasting from the stereo. Jack’s hand shot up, his index finger frantically jabbing at the stereo until the song died.
“Pull over. I gotta piss.”
They were on Interstate 30 heading east toward Arkansas a couple of hours later. Jamie had finally calmed down enough to sit back in his seat. The smartphone was in his lap again, “Pictures Of Lily” by The Who blasting from the stereo. It brought a smile to Jack’s face.
“Now this is a great song.”
Jamie sneered. “Thought you didn’t like music anymore.”
“This isn’t just a song. It’s a fucking revolution.”
“You always did like those Pete Townshend windmills.”
“They really were one of the greatest British Invasion bands. Back before all those bullshit rock operas in the seventies.”
Jack felt Jamie’s antenna going up. There was nothing his little brother liked more than arguing about music while barreling down the highway in the middle of the night. Jamie went straight for the jugular.
“Were they better than The Beatles?”
“Fuck off. Nobody’s better than The Beatles. But I’d put ‘Pictures Of Lily’ right up there with anything The Beatles released the same year.”
“Whoa. Be careful, bro. Sgt. Pepper’s came out in ‘67. Wanna revise your statement?”
It was like they were right back on tour again. Funny how similar pulling off a job felt to playing a gig. Both were weighted down with equal amounts of anticipation and dread, but only one came with the promise of a big payday. The other turned out to be nothing more than a childish hobby.
“I will revise my opinion. Sgt. Pepper’s is pompous bullshit too, just like Tommy or fucking Quadrophenia. So I’d say ‘Pictures Of Lily’ is better than anything The Beatles put out that year. At least The Who was still making rock music instead of going on album-long acid trips.”
“Sacrilege! But okay, I’ll play along. I already know your favorite Who song. So what’s your favorite Beatles song of all time?”
“For your information, ‘I Can’t Explain’ is my favorite Who song. And I’m not falling for your trap. It’s impossible to pick a favorite Beatles song.”
“Come on. You started it. ‘I Wanna Hold your Hand?’ ‘It Won’t Be Long?’ ‘Twist And Shout?’”
“Way too many to choose from.”
“Humor me. You clearly prefer the early records. Is it ‘I Saw Her Standing There?’ ‘All My Loving?’ ‘Please Please Me?’”
Jack tensed up. Things went quiet except for the whir of the highway outside.
“I need to get some sleep.”
Jamie didn’t fight him on it, but he didn’t stop talking either—much as Jack wanted him to.
“You know I know, right? Why you hate ‘Please Please Me’ so much.”
Jack kept his eyes shut tight, trying not to fuel the fire.
“You turn it off whenever it comes on. You’ve been doing it since we were kids.”
“Shut up so I can sleep.”
“I was there too, you know. The night before Dad split.”
“Shhhhh.”
Jamie obliged, but not for long.
“I think about him a lot these days, now that I’m a dad too. Amazing to think that I had my first kid in my late thirties. Dad was only twenty when Mom had you. Barely in his thirties when he took off. We were still in the band at that age, acting like we were fucking teenagers.”
Jack felt sick to his stomach. He considered pummeling his brother into silence. Or opening the passenger door and jumping out to his death.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I used to hate him too, you know. But—”
“But what?! He’s a selfish prick.”
“Or maybe there was something else going on that we didn’t know about.”
“Like what? What kind of person leaves their family in the dust like that?”
“I don’t know, Jack. He’s just some guy, fucked up like the rest of us. I finally just decided to forgive him and move on with my life.”
“I guess that’s where we’re different. Now shut the fuck up or swear to god I’ll shoot you.”
That'll Be The Day: A Power Pop Heist
CHAPTER 1 • CHAPTER 2 • CHAPTER 3 • CHAPTER 4 • CHAPTER 5 • CHAPTER 6 • CHAPTER 7 • CHAPTER 8 • CHAPTER 9 • CHAPTER 10 • CHAPTER 11 • CHAPTER 12 • CHAPTER 13 (THE END)
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Both That’ll Be The Day: A Power Pop Heist and the sequel, Good Girls Don’t: A Second Power Pop Heist, are available in print and ebook format on Amazon.
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